Shadows of the Dawn
by Yithril
Summary: The memoirs of a member of the Mythic Dawn written during his time in Cameron's Paradise. He writes of the circumstances that lead him into being a cultist, and recollects his deeds all the way through to the siege of Kvatch.
1. Chapter 1

_Sundas, Evening Star 3rd era of the 433rd year,_

I have no idea why I feel the need to write in this journal, but my mind cannot be put to rest until I write my thoughts down on paper. Silly isn't it? No one will ever see these entries, nor will they ever hear of my story. In some odd way, dear reader, there is a faint glimmer of hope that this book will end up in your hands. Only Mara knows how such a feat could be accomplished. By now, you must be wondering who I am, and why I would start out any piece of writing like this? Laughable really, that you would even care! Well, I can assure you, my profession was never that of a scribe or a bard. I do not have the gift of exaggeration, and my pen is not the paintbrush a true writer would use to take you to a world of dragons and adventure. I am a tailor, plain and simple. Strange is the fate the Nine have in store for us mere mortals isn't it? How does a mere tailor with a modest clothing store in Anvil wind up in this "Paradise", an immortal slave to Mankar Cameron?

How I long for those days, to see the cityscape of my native Anvil. Most people marvel at the majesty of the Imperial city, or find the mountains surrounding Bruma a natural wonder. I however, have always preferred Anvil's understatement and quiet charm. The smell of sea air, the bustle of the town square, a quiet sunset bursting over the Gold Coast; these are the treasures of my experiences that sustain me even now. I was a member of the marketplace, and as I mentioned above I was a tailor by trade. We Imperials are always expected to have a knack for business and a glib tongue to match, but I never seemed to fit the mold. My father raised me to run the family business since birth. My mother would often say, before she passed, that I could take a pile of rags and a needle and make a suit fit for a king. I don't know if I truly lived up to her high praises, but I certainly had a natural talent for the craft. Whenever I think back, her face has always been fresh in my mind; her smooth face, her midnight hair, her proud eyes that showed no malice to anyone. Father took her death far harder than he showed, and after the funeral he was a changed man. I grew up mostly alone, my father distant to me, but I always made sure I had something to occupy my hands. Winters and Summers passed as they do, and my life in Anvil had gotten into a comfortable rut. Then, one day, I met someone who set me onto a road I never suspected I could walk.

She was an Altmer, Layala, a lovely one with skin like fresh milk and almond eyes. Her best point were her graceful hands, thin yet beautiful. She captivated me in a way that this pen could not truly do justice. I clearly remember the first day she came to the shop to buy a new dress for a party. I could hardly concentrate, as I had never beheld a creature so pleasing to the eyes. My father was not very good with customers, as after mother's death he felt that the world had cheated him, and I was the one that handled everything in the shop. When I talked to her, I stumbled over my words like a drunken fool, never quite finding the right thing to say. I trapped myself in my own inability to communicate, but with each successive blunder I was met with laughter not unlike an angel. Do you think I let myself fly off into the clouds? Perhaps, and I wouldn't blame you if you did, my dear reader. She bought her dress and promptly left, and I hadn't the heart to seek her out again. Yes I was a coward, but people like me seldom are reticent of their own feelings and have difficulties acting on them.

Luckily the Nine had not forsaken me, and she appeared again. I was running errands along the Gold Road, and I had to find a brook to let my horse have a drink. It was then I heard a lilting voice from the depths of the forest. I was like a sailor drawn to the voice of a siren. There she was, delicately playing a silver harp atop a boulder overlooking a babbling brook. Her strands of auburn hair spiraled downwards, the rays of light streaking through the canopy of the forest giving her countenance a haunting glow. I felt like I had stepped into a fairy tale and I was the unsuspecting protagonist! I stood next to a tree, entranced and unable to move. She ended her song and playfully splashed her toes in the brook. She then turned around and looked at me, her eyes locking with mine. Had she known all along I was there, or was it by chance? My heart wavered and my knees gave way until they felt like butter. "Won't you sing with me?" she asked sweetly, motioning to the spot next to her. Miraculously I found the courage to move my legs, despite the fact they felt like lead anchors. I sat next to her, gazing into her bewitching eyes. My body stiffened, and I couldn't help but look downwards at the ground. Despite my lack of confidence, Layala did not seem to care. She let her fingers dance across the strings of her harp, a quiet tune springing forth from the instrument. We sat there for a moment, enjoying nature's symphony, and then she began to sing a quiet song. I did not know the words but I soon found the rhythm and joined in. The song seemed to awake the forest out of its ancient slumber,

Life began anew for me at that time. I felt as if I had been born into a strange new land, one that had only passing similarities with the previous. Somehow Layala had made my existence have a purpose. I saw her many times during the successive weeks. We would oftentimes meet in the same glen and trade stories. Sometimes we'd hide away into the shadows of the forest, losing ourselves into its depths. Our meetings were brief but that didn't matter to me, I wanted to be with her with every fiber of my being. She was quiet and shy oftentimes, and I found myself flooding out with every thought, feelings, desire, or ambition I had ever had. Always attentive but never forthcoming, she would sometimes seem so close and then at other times as far away as Morrowind. Layala was truly a mystery to me, one that I would've gladly spent my life trying to solve.

I recall one day when she and I were sitting on the beach overlooking the Abecean sea. She sat there looking upwards, the red and orange hues blazing across the firmament. I was feeling a little poetic at the time (the Cyrillic Brandy we had been sharing probably helped), and I decided to bring out the bard in me.

"Would you like to hear a song I used to sing as a little kid, Layala?"

Instead of talking Layala would communicate to me in subtle ways. She simply looked at me and smiled, bolstering my self confidence. I began to sing, the rhythm a little rusty but the words still quite clear in my mind.

_Away, away, on the green isle of Taralfen_

_Away, away, at the heart of the sleeping glen_

_There they stood, nine statues of the day_

_Their glimmering swords near their feet lay_

_The darkness they held back with their might_

_For no evil, no villain, would escape their sight_

_They see us through the glass of silver_

_Watching the rivers run hither and thither…_

"Please…no more…" choked Layala, burying her head in her hands and weeping. I reached out my hand to comfort her but she immediately jerked away.

"That is a terrible song about terrible things! Hypocrites!" she yelled, standing up and running back into the forest. I stood up, not knowing what I had done to make her so upset.

"Layala, wait!" I said running into the thicket after her, but she was swift of foot and had already escaped from my sight. I stood there, in the midst of the brush, my heart sinking into the abyss of my stomach. I thought about the song some more and what connection it could have at all.

"It's just a song we used to sing in church…" I thought to myself, dejectedly returning home. I did not see her again for awhile, sadly.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a rainy morning when my father would not wake up. I felt as if I had sunk into some nightmarish pit where there was no light. I spent several days by myself, sitting at my kitchen table and staring into nothingness. I simply stared downward at the pen and piece of paper in front of me, despairing. As you may or not know, dear reader, in Imperial culture, it is customary to give a eulogy in the form of a song, extolling the life and virtues of the deceased. If the song is well written then it is fabled that the soul of the deceased will rest in the care of Akatosh. If not, then the deceased cannot be satisfied and might not gain entry into the halls of the dragon god. I was never really one for all the myth and hoopla, but I did want to do my very best to commemorate his memory. I had tried for many days to come up with something that I could use to fulfill my duty as a son, but words eluded me. I couldn't focus my mind because all I could do was think of Layala. She had bewitched me like a sorceress, and my need for her was great. With my father and her gone I was truly, and utterly alone. The house felt, empty and large. I would wake up and there would be no sound, no life, just still and cold silence. I wonder if you are attacked by a voice in the night, a voice that will come for you when you are most weak? Does it toy with you when you are trying to sleep? Does it gnaw away at you while you sit and eat your breakfast alone on a dark and rainy day? During the days up until my father's funeral, I tortured myself with thoughts of despair. I envisioned a life alone, where I would eventually pass away into oblivion, obscure and unloved. Without Layala, I had no meaning and no reason to live.

The day of the funeral came, exactly one week after my father's death as per Imperial custom. The Chapel of Dibella was filled with family friends and most of the citizenry of Anvil. My father was not the most personable man, but people did have a great deal of respect for his evenhandedness and fair dealings. I was clothed in the white and silver robe of mourning that all Imperials wear on the day of the funeral, to show that their loved ones were rich in life. The head priest, a Redguard woman named Trevaia, was already at the altar, waiting for me to take my place by her side. I looked out into the congregation, some faces familiar, and some most definitely unknown. An elderly woman started to play the dirge on the organ, and I knew it was time for me to begin the song I had composed. With tears welling in my eyes, I opened my mouth. My voice came out, thankfully, as I had feared all morning I would make a fool of myself on the day of my father's burial. I began to sing, and as I looked upwards towards the ceiling. I silently hoped Dibella was listening.

_Late at night the stars were stolen _

_Who could see the shadowy thief?_

_The moon did not glow, its heart had broken_

_It cried onto the land, tears of grief._

_Where now would the kings of yore sleep_

_Their celestial homes away in the night_

_Where is that silver, glimmering keep_

_That place, where there had been no light?_

The service continued after my song, and I was glad to finally be done with the entire ceremony. I talked with family and friends outside the chapel, each of them wishing me the best of fortune and their condolences. In the midst of all these pleasantries, I caught Layala in the corner of my eye. It had started to rain, a little more than drizzle. I broke away from the funeral as quickly as I could and went to her. Her face was surprisingly pale as if the gold had been flushed out of it. She simply stood their, her hands clasped, her eyes tired and drooping.

I had felt a mix of joy and pain, two strong sensations I had much trouble controlling. She moved towards me, and looked into my eyes with an unfathomable compassion.

"I heard your song," she said. "It was beautiful…"

"Thank you, I did my best." Oh, I remember how much I wanted to hold her close to me at that time, but the memories of the incident at the beach had held me back. Layala simply walked a little past me and stared at the church.

"Why did you not come in though? It would've been appropriate to be in the congregation during the ceremony…" I couldn't figure out why she would wait for me outside of the church of all things.

"The Nine and I do not agree. Besides I felt that I would be a little out of place. I did not know your father at all," she said in a distinctly low tone of voice. I moved in slowly behind her, my face coming within scant millimeters of hers. How I ached for her! She was like a drug that was overpowering. She turned to me, our eyes locking in place.

"I feared I would never see you again," I replied.

"I couldn't stay away. I am sorry for everything, it's all my fault."

"No, please…please don't say things like that. We are here…now…together…" I breathed, holding her tightly in my arms. We embraced and I kissed her passionately. Afterwards we just stood their in each others arms, breathing heavily, drunk in the moment.

"I…came to say goodbye…" she whispered to me, tears welling in her eyes.

"Why? Why! You cannot go! You cannot leave me! I will go where you go!"

"You can't! I…life is going to change for me. You…just can't be part of it."

"I will go wherever you go, I will be with you…" I said resolutely. The dark thoughts I had in my solitude before the funeral came flooding back: The empty home, the meaningless life, a lonely death.

"You can't mean that. You don't know what you're saying…"

"We won't know until we try…"

She lowered her eyes, and looked down at the ground.

"I want to show you something…" she said.

I simply nodded, resolute in never wanting to be away from her, whatever the cost might be. She held my hand and led me out of the city. We saddled up and journeyed north through the forest, to where I did not know. After possibly an hours ride north, I saw a large white statue in the distance. There were torches and benches, as well as several people I recognized from town. Looking upwards towards the statue I was disgusted by its hideousness.

"What is this place?" I remember asking myself repeatedly.

We had stopped riding and got off the horse. Layala had this look of pure ecstasy as she admired the statue. She and the other people there, a Khajiti woman and two nords, began to dance in a circle, swaying to some unheard melody. Layala had transformed before my very eyes, into something I had never seen before. As she leaped two and fro, her eyes were distant and she seemed to be completely disjointed from reality. I was a bit frightened at the time, not knowing what was really going on. When their dance had finished, Layala turned to me and held my hands.

"Join us won't you? This is the shrine of Malacath, the great Daedra god!" she said beaming.

That should've been my first sign to leave, my first sign to run away as far from Layala as I could. But I was too weak then, friend. I was too taken in by her eyes, her smell, her intoxicating presence. My father warned me about Daedra worship. He had told me stories as a child about the evil Daedric princes, the gods that had threatened all of Tamriel. But my father's voice was gone, and instead all I could hear was Layala's haunting tone.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" I said naively.

"Well this and one more thing…" Layala went to her knapsack and pulled out a brown leather tome with several strange symbols on the cover. She handed it to me, gently caressing the face of the book.

"Mythic Dawn Commentaries?" Ahh, my dear reader, it was the beginning of the end.


	3. Chapter 3

"It is the word of Mankar Cameron, and the word of Mehrunes Dagon!" Layala's eyes danced as she handed me the strange leather book.

"Isn't he…"

"A Daedric God? Why yes, he is the greatest of them all. But I and others in our group venerate all Daedric gods like Malacath." Layala turned around and looked longingly at the statue of the god.

I focused my attention on the strange looking book, and opened it. Oh, if I had only listened to that little voice inside that told me to run as far and as fast as my legs could carry me! But I could not bear the thought of being parted from Layala, and I felt at the time I should do what was needed to keep our relationship alive. What an unadulterated fool I was.

"Join us! Join us! You will find a new happiness! Read these commentaries and you will find new life." Layala returned to me and latched herself onto my arm. She looked up at me, her chestnut brown eyes meeting mine. I fell in love with her all over again, drunk in the passion of the moment.

"I love you but…I don't know…I've always been raised to worship the Nine…" Oh if only I had a spine back then…

"The Nine?" Layala's expression went from exuberant to disgusted, as if the very mention of the nine caused her to become infuriated. "The Nine are liars and thieves, every one of them. They have forsaken this world! I hate them, I HATE THEM!" Layala was so overcome with her own hatred and malice that she fell to the ground, quivering with emotion. I rushed to her side and held her, wanting to end her suffering.

"We won't talk of them ever again…"

She wept for what seemed to be eternity as I held her. I did not want to broach the subject again, but at the time I couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to her. I lifted her face and looked into her eyes. We sat there for a moment, speechless but communicating volumes to each other. We embraced for a moment, and Layala walked over to the other members of the order and bade me farewell.

"_Read these commentaries and find new life"_

As I think on it now, my dear reader, that is what I truly wanted. I wanted a new life, a new outlook, a new way of being. I thought I could find it in Layala, and I would do anything to make sure we stayed together. As I rode back to Anvil I was euphoric at the thought of being reborn. A second chance at last, to have life go _my_ way for once! I wasted no time once I got home, and began to pour over the commentaries.

I don't think I have to tell you that while highly intelligent, Mankar Cameron is very insane. I remember trying to make sense of the text. The first chapters were almost complete and utter gibberish with references being made to fairy tales and then to philosophical debates of the Ayleids. I resolved myself, however, to read every word and try to find out what Layala saw in it. I thought, foolishly, that if I too could learn to love the Daedra and the teachings I would be with her forever.

It had been about a week and I made absolutely no headway into the text at all. It was the ramblings of a lunatic after all, so it really came to no surprise that it made no sense. I did notice, however, that the first letter of each paragraph seemed to spell out something. I wrote down the letters but the message didn't make much sense, after all I had was the first three volumes. I got exasperated and put the books down and tried to divert myself with tailoring. I had gotten very behind in my work and I was sure to have some belligerent customers in the morning if I didn't finish. I worked until late that evening, when Layala appeared in my window, grinning from ear to ear. I put down my needle and thread and rushed to her.

"I thought I'd find you hard at work. You never seem to rest." She nuzzled her nose up against mine and we kissed.

"Come inside."

"That's okay, I just came by to see if you found inspiration in his words."

I smiled very awkwardly and averted my eyes, a telltale sign I didn't want to get into any sort of conflict. Of course, Layala knew me like the back of her hand and felt a little hurt I hadn't taken to the texts with as much gusto as she had.

"If you don't like them…"

"No no, I didn't say that. It's just that I can't seem to appreciate them without the last volume. I think I found a sort of code."

"Really?" She immediately made her way inside and sat herself down at the table. I opened up the volumes and began to point out the significance of the first letters of each paragraph.

"Fascinating."

"Yes but I can't put the code together without the fourth volume."

"Well, that was the other thing I came to see you about. I'm going to be leaving for the Imperial city tomorrow to meet someone who can get me the fourth volume. Think of it, the rarest of all of Mankar Cameron's books and perhaps the most revelatory." I had never seen her eyes more alive than at that moment, and I couldn't hold back my emotions anymore. Our eyes met for what seemed like eternity and we embraced with an overwhelming intensity.

--------

Layala had brought two horses by my house in the morning and we got underway to the Imperial city. The roads of the land were very safe under the protection of the Emperor, and it was often said that you could carry a sack of gold from Leyawin to Cheydinhal without so much a fly bothering you. I always enjoyed long trips, especially across the West Weald. Whenever my father needed hard to find supplies he would take me with him to Skingrad. The rolling hills would explode with the vibrant colors of wild flowers during the spring time. I remember one trip where father and I woke up early to catch the sun rising up through the mountains. If you ever have the chance, my dear reader, take time out of your schedule to go to Skingrad and find a quiet spot in the castle overlooking the hills. There is nothing more breathtaking than to watch the fiery sun illuminate the Weald. Oh, I apologize for my ramblings but there is so much I want to record for you!

Anyways Layala wanted us to make haste but I felt that we should take a rest in Skingrad before we make the last leg of the trip towards the Imperial city. The city was quiet, a strange hush that couldn't be broken by anything. I saddled our horses and went with Layala to find the nearest inn to rest for the night. The townsfolk seemed somber and downcast, and I wondered what could have happened. We eventually came to the inn and Layala immediately went upstairs to rest.

"Your friend seems pretty tired," said Mog grah-Mogakh the orc innkeeper. She wiped off the counter as I sat down and she poured me a tall ale.

"Do you have any Surrilic brandy? I'm not a big fan of beer…"

"Really? Well, I guess I can see that. Here, it's on the house."

"Wow thanks."

"No problem. You seem like a nice person, there are so few in the world as it is you know."

"Well I don't know about all that."

I sipped the sweet brandy for a few moments and took in my surroundings. I usually wasn't a fan of bars or inns because of the raucous laughter and loud music, but today the energy seemed to be sucked out of the time. I hate to admit it but I felt it was a nice change of pace.

"So where are you headed?"

"Well we're headed to the Imperial city," I responded as I took a sip of brandy.

"Business or pleasure?" She smirked a tad bit sarcastically and I took the innuendo in stride.

"A little of both actually. I haven't been in years and Layala had some business in the city she needs to take care of."

"You know its very rare to see an Imperial and an Altmer together these days. Not that there's any bad blood, but don't Imperial families usually insist on marrying their own?"

"That is true but my parents," I almost choked on my brandy when I mentioned the word, it was too painful to even think about.

"Hmm, well as long as you're happy," she said, realizing she stepped on a nerve and quickly changed the subject. "Besides, someone's got to be happy around here, with the bad news and all."

"I was wondering what had happened. Everyone's acting like they're at a funeral."

"You haven't heard?" She looked at me as if I was some sort alien. "You must live in a cave."

"Something like that."

"Another heir to the throne has been killed. Yurus Septim is dead."

I felt as if someone had struck me across the head. The news of the death of the first son of Uriel Septim, Tyrantius, had reached me several weeks ago.

"Everyone thought that the first died in a hunting accident."

"Well that was what everyone thought at the time. But now that the second is dead I don't think anyone could call it simple coincidence."

"How did Yurus die?"

"Well the official statement is that he got caught in an undertow and drowned in the lake around the Imperial city but…"

"…everyone knows he is an excellent swimmer and would never go like that. I don't know what to think…" I never held much love for the emperor or the Imperial family, and only held at best a passing interest in them as far as gossip goes. However I felt like someone had broken the peace of the empire. Isn't it odd, my dear reader, that you never realize what you hold dear until it is snatched away from you in the night?

"If two are already dead then that means Emperor Septim's last son is next?" I didn't want to entertain the thought of the empire suffering through the death of all three of Emperor Septim's sons, but it was not unthinkable at this point.

"That's the next step, but I'd like to think that the Emperor and his body guards are going to do something about this. Whoever is doing this will slip up eventually I'm sure."

"I hope you are right. Thanks for the drink."

"No prob. You come talk to me any time. You'll always have my ear."

I walked upstairs and found Layala fast asleep. I got read for bed, but found that I couldn't relax myself. I sat by the window and looked at lantern lights across the city. I looked at the faces of each person walking down the street, and found the same uneasiness in their eyes. Troubled times were ahead, troubled times indeed.


End file.
